Reckoning
by Rose7
Summary: Terry McGinnis has been Batman for nearly a year. His life is about to change dramatically.
1. Orignini

Disclaimer: I don't own Batman Beyond, Batman, or any of the genius characters or ideas of their creators.  
  
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Darkness doesn't help your sight. I realize this as I crouch in the corner of this alley, my eyes squinting against the shapeless black objects around me. I sigh impatiently.  
  
"Not much longer, McGinnis." Bruce Wayne's voice says in my ear, about as reassuring as a grindstone.  
  
"I'm not gonna have much luck catching there guys if my legs are asleep." I can almost see Wayne's wry smile as he chuckles.  
  
"You'll survive, Terry." I am Terry McGinnis, and I have been crouched in this alleyway for the better part of an hour; never moving a muscle, waiting in the shadows for the enemy to emerge. I sigh again, glancing at the clock within my mask. 1:00. I'm pretty much screwed for sleep or anything else I have to do tomorrow. There's some kind of test. Trig? No it has to be chemistry.  
  
"Good thing I'm not college bound." I mutter to myself. I'd never survive.  
  
"Go!" Wayne yells. I look up. Three men are poised at the door of the building I'm guarding. Their intent: grand theft convenience-store.  
  
Forget the chemistry.  
  
I explode out of the dark, completely surprising the thieves. They yell, swear, scramble for their guns.  
  
"Look out." Wayne says nonchalantly. I turn around and am met with a fist straight to my chin. Though I missed that, I do not miss the one with a gun aimed at me. I make a wild but spectacular-looking flip into the air and kick his gun away. The three men begin to run. I resist the urge to laugh at the fact that they'll soon run straight into about a dozen police cars.  
  
"Come on guys! We can't fight that Bat-freak!" I feel myself grin from ear to ear. I'm not just Terry McGinnis.  
  
I'm Batman. 


	2. In Medias Res

"Mr. McGinnis." I look up. 20 teenagers and one smirking teacher stare at me.  
  
"Were you planning on answering the question, Mr. McGinnis?" I sit up.  
  
"That would depend on what the question was. What was the question?" The class giggles. The teacher himself has to grin, but he allows it only for a second.  
  
"Never mind. Do try to pay attention. Terry." With only about 10 minutes left in the class, there's not much more to pay attention to. Nevertheless I attempt to absorb some of what he's saying until the bell rings. School's about the only social life I have left. I'm out risking my neck for my nine- to-five, only my nine-to-five is a.m. Very a.m.  
  
"Ah, there's my long-lost boyfriend." Dana chirps as she sidles up against me.  
  
"Hey Dana."  
  
"So are we going out tonight, or are you still a slave to the old guy?" Do I tell her the truth, that I'm probably not going out tonight, that I probably never will able to go out again until maybe sometime around Christmas? Or do I tell her sure and blow off Wayne and Batman? Although blowing off one is like blowing off the other.  
  
"I'll be there. I can't guarantee I'll be awake, but I'll be there." Better to die happy then to die otherwise- Either way I'm trapped. Dana smiles, but not before trying to move me out of the way of someone I'm about to walk into.  
  
"Terry watch out!" I bump right into a girl, knocking down all her books. Both Dana and I bend to help her retrieve them.  
  
"Sorry about that." The girl glances up at me. She's got dark features, but has a disarming smile that she uses on me to its full effect.  
  
An effect it probably shouldn't have on me considering I have a girlfriend.  
  
"No problem. No problem at all." She murmurs in a slightly accented voice and walks away.  
  
"Who is that?" Dana sighs.  
  
"I think that's the new girl, Lydia Meraviglia." Lydia. The name sort of rolls off her tongue, despite the snide way she says it.  
  
"Oh yeah. Rumor has it she moved all the way from Italy."  
  
"Rumor also has it she's already a total slut." Dana replies. "But you're going to be there tonight?"  
  
"Yeah, I'll be there."  
  
"You promise?"  
  
"If I have to knock the guy out with his own cane, I'll be there." Not like I ever would. Or could.  
  
**************************************************************  
  
"McGinnis!" Wayne roars in my ear. I move away from Dana towards the table, trying to escape the dancers and pounding music.  
  
I should have known it wouldn't be this easy.  
  
"Yeah Wayne?"  
  
"Where the hell are you?"  
  
"Out."  
  
"That's it?" My vague answer angers him. How ironic.  
  
"Get over here now!" For a moment I think of resisting, telling Wayne to get some sleep for one night in his life, and getting back to the life of a teenager.  
  
Dad.  
  
Then I change my mind.  
  
"Fine. Give me 10 minutes." Wayne hangs up without even trying to shorten my time. I move back to Dana, rubbing my neck ruefully.  
  
She's gonna kill me.  
  
"What happened to you?" She yells over the cacophony of the club.  
  
"Wayne called." This has happened so often that Dana doesn't even need anymore explanation on my part. She's already got her hand on her hip and that pissed off expression on her face.  
  
"Christ Terry." She snaps and storms off.  
  
"Dana." I mutter, barely even trying to stop her. I can't do anything right in her eyes. She never understands that I can't be the attentive, normal boyfriend. Even when I do fight for her, my reward is this: A night of being made to feel guilty for not fighting even more.  
  
I'm increasingly getting tired of fighting for her at all. Much less fighting with her.  
  
I turn to leave, but stop to observe an extremely odd sight: Meraviglia, the new girl, is dancing atop one of the tables. 5 guys have got their hands all over her. And she's laughing. Dana's hearsay was right. For once.  
  
I want to help her.  
To tell her that she's throwing it all away, that this is no way to live your life.  
But I don't have the right to tell anyone that.  
  
There is a sudden crash. I blink, and Nelson Nash is lying on the ground. Meraviglia stands above him, her fists clenched and her eyes hateful. The room is silent except for the music.  
  
"What the hell's wrong with you?" Nash demands, pulling himself up.  
  
"You're what's wrong with me." She replies.  
  
"I was just getting some, like any other living thing that walks would get with you." Meraviglia does not seem to notice the small crowd that has gathered around them. Her eyes glare into Nelson.  
  
"Bastardo." She hisses in Italian. Silence. I hold my breath.  
  
"Bastardo." He repeats mockingly, stepping closer to her.  
  
"El whore-o." Meraviglia explodes. Her foot shoots out, kicking him in the mouth. He falls back a bit. I doubt anyone, much less a girl, has ever dared to punch Nelson unless he punched first. He looks back at her, both surprise and rage in his features.  
  
Do I stop the fight?  
Do I interfere?  
Is it my responsibility?  
  
I leave the new girl and Nash to their fight and move towards my bike. Wayne wouldn't approve of it. Batman's got more important things to do.  
Only somehow I feel like I'm passing up helping this new girl to help 100 others. 


	3. Allesitre

"Seems pretty quiet tonight." I remark tentatively. A tentative remark sounds almost funny when I'm in this suit with my lower-than-normal- attempting-to-be-threatening voice. Wayne completely ignores me. As usual.  
  
"There's something going on down on East 5th." Isn't there always. East 5th is pretty much training ground for policemen and Batmen alike; a den of thieves, muggers, drug dealers and murderers.  
  
"I'm on it." I'm over there in seconds.  
  
"There. A couple of Jokerz." I sigh. If I could, I would conjure up some of the old villains. Maybe even get over to their jail cells and release them. Anything other than another stupid run-in with the Jokerz.  
  
Is there a point to being out here, risking my life, if I'm just rounding up the same misguided teenagers night after night?  
  
"Do you have some place better to be, McGinnis?" Wayne says crisply. I bite my tongue on the numerous better places I could be and land near the group of Jokerz. A crowd of them stand in a circle, tormenting some poor victim.  
  
"What's the matter little girl? Gotta go home and lick your wounds?" One of them jeers. Apparently I'm too late to stop what's already happened.  
  
"Not before I give you some wounds of your own." It takes me a minute to realize that the witty comeback didn't come from my lips. One of the Jokerz falls back from a pretty good uppercut to the jaw. I stand, wondering whether to help the victim or the Jokerz.  
  
"Admiring the scenery, McGinnis?" Wayne says impatiently. I walk towards the circle and tap one of them on the shoulder. His face turns paler than the idiotic makeup on his face.  
  
"Evening." I shove him to the side before he can reply. Another fist shoots out at me, but I grab the wrist and yank it towards me. The wrist is attached to an arm.  
  
And that arm is attached to Lydia Meraviglia.  
  
She stares up at me for a moment. The Jokerz take the opportunity to run off, and I'm stuck wondering why the hell I keep running into this girl. She wrenches her arm free of me. I notice that she's got a pretty nasty black eye and a couple of split knuckles. The question is if they're from Nelson Nash or from the Jokerz.  
  
"You're pretty good at getting yourself into trouble." I murmur, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the fact that she hasn't run off, looked frightened, or thanked me yet. Most of which happen within 30 seconds of my helping someone.  
  
"I'm also pretty good at getting myself out of it."  
  
"You sure looked like you could've used some help." Meraviglia smiles at me. I'm wearing a bat suit, trying to look intimidating, and she's smiling brightly at me as if we're off on some carefree adventure.  
  
"I didn't really need it."  
  
"I guess I should thank you then for graciously allowing me to throw a few punches." I mutter. You land, you fight, you protect, and you get this girl who smiles at you and says she never needed your help.  
  
"No problem." Meraviglia says, staring at me. "No problem at all." 


	4. Meravigliare

"Terry! Terry, wake up!" Mom yells. I roll out of bed, that slight taste of iron in my mouth that you only get after a night of pounding and being pounded. Mom stands in the doorway, fingers tapping against the frame impatiently.  
  
"It's 9 am! School will be over before you get there if you don't hurry up!  
  
"I'm coming, I'm coming."  
  
"I swear you must lead a double life, Terry. What does Mr. Wayne possibly need you to do that keeps you out until midnight?" Uh.. Think fast, McGinnis.  
  
"Stuff, Mom." Brilliant.  
  
I grab my books, grab my coat, and run out of the apartment. On the way the phone rings. I reach to answer it, nearly tripping down the stairs as I do.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"We have a problem." It's Max. And by we, she can only mean Batman.  
  
"It's a little early in the morning for this."  
  
"She knows who you are, Terry." I stop in my tracks. No one else knows. I know, Wayne knows, and Max knows. That's it. That's what I've been busting my butt to make sure it was. How the hell did anyone else find out?  
  
"Who? Dana?" That might even make things a little easier. At least she wouldn't be able to accuse me of ignoring her anymore.  
  
"No. The new girl."  
  
"You're kidding me." I know the girl for all of 24 hours and she suddenly knows that I'm Batman? This, coupled with me never seeming to get rid of her, just adds to my frustration.  
  
"I kid you not. I don't know how the hell she found out. All I know is that we were talking about Batman's latest stunt, and she walks up and says 'Remove the mask and all you have is someone like Terry McGinnis.' Lucky for you everyone laughed."  
  
Was that supposed to make me feel better?  
  
"I think she knows, Terry, and you have to do something about it." No problem. No problem at all. I should have sensed that those words weren't just the product of a girl's repetition. I hang up the phone, walk faster, and soon enough I'm at school at the break of 2nd period. Within a split second I see the girl, Meraviglia, at her locker. But apparently she's already upset someone else, because Nash is coming towards her. The black eye on his face makes him look even stupider than he already does, and it's obviously why he's upset. Can't possibly have a mark like that marring his lovely face. Or his spotless image.  
  
This girl's got a natural gift for causing chaos.  
  
"Before you attempt to beat me up, do you think you could wait until I've gotten my books out?" Lydia says calmly, not even turning around to acknowledge the enraged 200 pound jock behind her. Nelson slams her against the locker, and that's my cue to rush in.  
  
"Leave her alone, Nash." He glares at me.  
  
"Who's gonna make me, McGinnis? You?"  
  
"No one's going to make you do anything. But if you don't, I might feel inclined to give you another black eye to match the one I've already given you." Lydia growls. Nash glances from me to her, weighing his chances of being able to get even with her, keep me at bay, and still get to class on time. Evidently they aren't that good, because he backs off and goes storming down the hall. And instead of the gratitude I expect, the gratitude that will put me in her favor, keep her in my debt, and keep my secret safe, Lydia glares at me and begins to walk away.  
  
"How about a thank you?" I call out. She stops.  
  
"How about a screw you?" This girl's enough to make you scream.  
  
"I just helped you out! Next time I suppose you rather have me let him hit you!"  
  
"You don't get it, do you McGinnis? I can take care of myself. I don't need you to come rushing in to save the day." Her words are getting increasingly themed towards Batman.  
  
"An ally might be nice for you to have once in a while." She gives me an icy look and yanks me into an empty classroom with surprising strength.  
  
"Look, I know who you are. And that's making you uncomfortable, isn't it?" Uncomfortable no.  
  
Worried, stressed, blackmailed, yes.  
  
"Well you don't have to do me any favors. I don't plan to tell anyone who you are." And I'm supposed to trust this girl I just met who doesn't seem to like me (which is fine because I don't think I like her) with the biggest and most important thing in my life?  
  
I'm going to need a bit more insurance than that.  
  
"To be honest, I don't know you, and I don't trust you. And I don't know that you're going to keep this secret or not." Lydia Meraviglia smirks.  
  
"I guess you'll have to kill me then." She says, laughing. One second she's screaming at you for helping her, the next she's laughing at your concern over your secret.  
  
"It's not funny."  
  
"Since you seem like you have enough to worry about, don't waste your time worrying about this. I promise you I'll never tell anyone. Ever." Maybe it's time for a different approach. I stand as tall as I can. It'll be a bit harder without the suit, but I can try. "You're right. You won't." I try to sound as vicious as possible, to do in my own clumsy way what Wayne can do effortlessly. I give her a glare that could melt ice, standing as close to her as possible to try and scare her with proximity.  
  
Lydia bursts out laughing again.  
  
"McGinnis," She manages to say while giggling, "You don't have to threaten me either. I'm never going to tell anyone. No matter what you may do to me in future or what I may do to you, I won't tell."  
  
I stand, speechless, completely out of weapons and pretty much at her mercy. She smiles at me one last time as the bell rings.  
  
"Don't let it ruin your day, McGinnis. Just forget I even know about it." That should be easy considering that I barely remember her name. 


	5. Pizzicare

"You're going to have to stay away from her." Wayne murmurs. I had a day to mull over my situation. And, as it got me nowhere (like it usually doesn't) I go to Wayne for advice.  
  
Surprisingly he hasn't flown off the handle.  
  
Yet.  
  
"Don't worry. I intend to."  
  
"That's not your usual attitude towards women."  
  
"This one isn't a woman. She's insane." Any normal girl would have at least given me a flirtatious wink. This one threatens to kill you if you try and help her again.  
  
"Those are the best kind." He says, not even batting an eyelid.  
  
"Trust me Wayne. You don't want to go within 10 feet of this one." Wayne turns in his chair, eying me with that scrutinizing glare of his.  
  
"There's a reason why she's so adamant on being independent. There's also a reason why she was able to figure out who you were after only having met you once."  
  
"Which was?" Silence. I should have known Wayne wasn't going to be as open and honest as he never is.  
  
"That's your job. Unless you're still afraid of going near her. Suit up." Well.  
  
So much for staying away from her.  
  
I follow Wayne's orders and suit up. I fly out to the city, weaving between buildings and skyscrapers. This girl could be anywhere, on any building, in any little crevice of the city. And probably a dark one, judging by her manner.  
  
Or she could be on the one right below me.  
  
Of all the dumb luck in the world, I've happened to chance upon the exact building she's at, and surprisingly enough she's sitting on the roof of it, legs dangling precariously over the edge. I land behind her, not even bothering to try and sneak up on her. She probably knows I'm here already.  
  
"You're not going to jump, are you?" I ask. Lydia laughs.  
  
"I wasn't planning on it. Maybe I should." I don't know whether to be concerned or to brush it off as part of the general malaise that comes out of her mouth.  
  
"Why?" She turns and gazes at me.  
  
"Don't you have better things to do than to be asking me for answers you don't care about?" I almost want to run up and shove her off of the building. But instead I stand there and keep trying.  
  
"What are you doing up here?"  
  
"Thinking."  
  
"About what?" She glares at me again, olive colored skin looking darker still from the look she's giving me.  
  
"You honestly think I'm going to tell you?"  
  
"I'm only trying to be your friend, Lydia." I'd rather take a punch to the gut than take more of her hostility. It's a lie, but you say what you need to.  
  
"I don't need a friend."  
  
"Well that's good, because you don't have many. Nelson's ready to rip you apart, people at school are spreading rumors about you that I don't even want to think about, and you're pretty much rejecting every friendly hand that reaches for you." She is silent for a moment. I move to sit next to her.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"I just started being this incredibly bad person. I talk back, I fight. I'm grounded every day. Even today." Her tone is bland, emotionless. As if it's a fact of life and it's never going to change.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Why were you?" It catches me off guard.  
  
"Don't tell me I still have that reputation."  
  
"In some circles." I don't know why. I never did know why. I was stupid.  
  
Maybe she doesn't know either.  
  
"Are your parents as concerned as mine were?" I murmur. She laughs bitterly.  
  
"Parent."  
  
"Your dad?" That would just make it all too close to home.  
  
"My mom." If she says she was murdered, I'll hit the roof.  
  
I don't know why it would upset me so much, but somehow it does.  
  
"Died calmly in bed of a heart attack. I was 10." Again is that distant quality in her voice, as if she's trying to separate herself from the events I'm forcing her to talk about.  
  
"But if you're stupid enough to think that that's the reason for my less-than-cordial manner, you shouldn't be up here talking to me."  
  
"I'm still here. What does that tell you?" It tells me I'm an idiot. Even Wayne would have given up by now.  
  
But for some reason I'm still here.  
  
"What's your dad like?"  
  
"My dad is the perfect Italian father: very busy eating, drinking, and being merry, for tomorrow he could die." It's an old proverb. But I get the feeling that it's more negative than inspiring in this instance.  
  
"With no time for you."  
  
"With plenty of time for me." Every time I think I have her figured out, she turns out to be not what I expected.  
  
"Then why aren't you at home talking to him, instead of up here talking to me?" Lydia looks up at me, her brown eyes not as threatening as the rest of her is.  
  
"He ignores me." I can't even imagine what that would be like. To have your own father simply.not care. My father always cared.  
  
Both of them.  
  
"You still haven't answered my question."  
  
"And you haven't answered mine." Game, set, match. She's ruthless when she's right.  
  
"I guess anyone who runs around in a bat suit fighting crime has to be insane, right?"  
  
"Not if they have a good reason. Do you do it for your father?"  
  
"No." Isn't this all about fathers? Wayne lost his, I lost mine. She's lost hers.  
  
"Neither do I. I do it because of my father." Lydia says it with a sigh of relief, as if it's some great thing that she's finally let off of her shoulders.  
  
"He doesn't show it. I don't think he has it for me. So I'm looking for it." She never says what it is, but she and I both already know. I say nothing more; merely stay seated next to her. Wayne doesn't butt in with a command to get back to work, because he knows what I'm thinking about.  
  
Dad. 


	6. Inaspettato

"You spent the whole evening with her?" Max says, almost shouting. Our Chemistry teacher turns around for a moment, and then goes back to what he was writing on the board.  
  
"Wake the dead, why don't you. Yes, surprisingly enough we had a conversation without her threatening to hit me." I glance back at the girl myself. Lydia Meraviglia sits in her chair, looking as though she's incredibly interested in the problems written on the board. I'm probably the only one who knows that behind that face of pure scholastic interest, there's nothing but anger and some very strange thoughts running around in her head. If the teacher could see through it, he'd probably throw her out in horror.  
  
"Dana would hit the roof if she knew you were out with another girl at night." Max says teasingly.  
  
"Cut it out. Dana's not going to hit the roof because she's not going to find out." At least, I hope she doesn't find out. Not that I have anything to hide.  
  
Except maybe the fact that I actually enjoyed the civil conversation I shared with Lydia Meraviglia last night.  
  
"Perhaps, Mr. McGinnis, you could enlighten the rest of us with just what is so enthralling that you would listen to it over my class?" The teacher says, glaring up at me from the front. This guy's never liked me.  
  
"Nothing sir."  
  
"Then perhaps you could tell us the answer to my question?" I stare at it. I can save hundreds of people from certain death, destroy genetically engineered monsters, and fly around the city as a powerful superhero, but I have no chance whatsoever of figuring out what he asked me. The teacher waits barely long enough for me to read the problem, then immediately throws his hands up in the air.  
  
"You never have the answers, do you McGinnis?" This guy not only doesn't like me, he hates me.  
  
"I'm sorry sir-"  
  
"You know, a couple years ago, when you were involved in that nasty business with that gang of yours, I pushed for your expulsion. But the school wouldn't listen to me." He still thinks I'm that messed up kid who ran with the wrong crowd, who was feared and admired for all the wrong reasons, and could have you roughed up if you looked sideways at him. I'm not, and many people know that.  
  
But there's still some who don't.  
  
"Maybe if you had spent less time doing such terrible things, and more time trying to live up to the kind of man your father was, you'd have- "  
  
"Leave him alone." Every head in the classroom turns. It's Lydia. She says it clearly, but without a trace of hesitation or anger. Almost emotionless. But the sweet, fearless smile on her face tells me otherwise.  
  
"Perhaps, Miss Meraviglia, if you feel so inclined to stand up for Mr. McGinnis, you would also feel inclined to answer the question he couldn't. Who came up with the idea of asexual reproduction?"  
  
"Your wife?"  
  
Is she suicidal?  
  
Her answer not only silences the teacher, it silences the classroom. I almost laugh, but Max jabs me sharply in the side with her elbow. The teacher sputters for words for a moment, and then finally finds them.  
  
"Get out. Get your stuff and get out. Go down to the principal's office, now." Lydia smiles brightly at him. Oddly timed smiles seem to be her weapons of choice, along with biting insults delivered in a sickeningly sweet way. She rises and exits the classroom. The teacher spends the last 10 minutes trying to regain his composure, but by the time he does, the bell's already rung. Max and I leave the classroom. Lydia is leaning against the lockers next to the door. Clearly she's got no intention of going to the principal's office.  
  
"You're insane. Do you know that?" I say, coming up to her.  
  
"I just saved your butt, McGinnis." She says, staring at me. "You owe me big time." Just when you think you have the upper hand, that you've triumphed over her, she swoops in and somehow turns it back into her favor. I wasn't allowed to even try to help her, but here she is proclaiming that she's rescued me?  
  
Which is true.  
  
"I could have handled that." She keeps staring.  
  
"Fine. Thanks."  
  
"Everyone needs help. You're only Terry McGinnis, not Batman." She replies, those brown eyes of her almost seeming to laugh at me. If eyes could laugh.  
  
"I guess I do owe you."  
  
"Lap dance in the suit and we'll call it even." I start to laugh, but stop when I notice that she hasn't batted an eyelid.  
  
"You're not serious."  
  
"Try me." I have to smile. Sure, she's insane and has a gift for causing chaos, but she also has an uncanny ability to make me laugh. She's also pretty fearless.  
  
And just plain pretty.  
  
"Terry?" Dana stands there, glaring at me. Well, not so much at me, but at Lydia.  
  
"I'm coming." Dana steps a few feet away, waiting for me to finish. Lydia rolls her eyes at me and I have to stifle another laugh.  
  
"Slave to the inexorable girlfriend I see."  
  
"Believe me; dating me isn't for the faint of heart."  
  
"I'd believe it. I'll see you later, McGinnis." Lydia murmurs, turning and walking off. I shake my head and walk up to Dana.  
  
"So you two are getting pretty close." She says. The tone in her voice could make hell freeze over.  
  
"She's got it tough Dana. Just moved here from a whole other country, her dad's not around, her mom's dead. It wouldn't hurt to be nice to her."  
  
"It wouldn't hurt to be nice to me either." She says, shrugging off my arm.  
  
"Dana come on don't be like that." I'm so sick of this. It's the exact same routine, over and over and over again. First she says.  
  
"No, Terry, I have the right to be upset with you! Christ, you're never ever around, always working!" Then I counter with.  
  
"I need to work, Dana! I don't have a choice! You know that." And here comes the.  
  
"I'm sick of it Terry! You need to decide what's more important- me or your stupid job." She glances behind her at the shrinking form of Lydia Meraviglia.  
  
"Or your new friends."  
  
********************************************************* Yeah, I know I ripped it off from War Games. Wonderful film and an excellent joke and it started out that I was just putting it in so I could continue the story and I was going to go back and change it to something of the same elk, but then I liked it so much I left it in there lol. 


	7. Cambiare

"Think I'll get more than an hour's worth of sleep tonight?" Wayne grunts.  
  
"Go home, McGinnis. There's nothing out there tonight." Did I hear him correctly? I can go home? Early!?  
  
"Are you feeling all right?" I ask him. I can almost see the smirk on his face.  
  
"Don't get used to it. Be ready for a long night tomorrow." I should have known there was a catch somewhere. I begin to steer back towards Wayne Manor. There's no more problems Batman has to deal with. There's plenty of them for Terry McGinnis, however.  
  
Number one: What the hell to tell Dana.  
  
Number two: Save myself from flunking out of high school.  
  
Number three: Figure out how to do both number two and three without driving myself insane, dying of exhaustion, or slacking off as Batman.  
  
Batman, Terry, Batman, Terry- I wouldn't be surprised if I was diagnosed with split-personality disorder by the time I'm 20.  
  
I find myself passing by Meraviglia's building.  
  
To my complete surprise, I find myself stopping at it and leaping out. As usual she's on the roof, completely oblivious to the freezing temperatures of February and uncaring about everything around her.  
  
I don't know what I expect to find here. Most likely she'll ask me why the hell I'm here, I'll have no answer, and I'll be driven back home by her biting remarks.  
  
"Are you up here every night?"  
  
"We both probably spend most of our evenings on rooftops." She answers, this time turning around to at least acknowledge my presence.  
  
"Did you beat the bad guy, save the day, and get the girl?" She's mocking me.  
  
"I know I'll never have to save you. Make fun of me if you want, but there's plenty of other people who need it." Lydia doesn't give me the lecture on how weak people that need saving are that I was expecting.  
  
"It's almost noble. In an antiquated kind of way." Well. That's a new one.  
  
"That's a better opinion than most. Everyone else thinks I'm the schway-est thing on the planet, or trying to have fun, or trying to avenge my father, or that I'm putting myself in danger and working all the time."  
  
"What does your mom think?" This girl's direct.  
  
"That I work too much. But she's got enough to worry about without worrying about me. I'm trying. I'm trying the best I can to help her. I guess there's still some lingering guilt from the days when I was a bad kid." She doesn't reassure me that I'm doing well at that. Instead she waits for the rest of it, the part of it I never tell anyone. I don't know how she someone knows that there's more.  
  
I don't know why I'm about to tell her.  
  
"I think.I think Mom's still a little afraid of me. Not just afraid that I'm going to run off and join a gang again, but I think she's a little afraid of me. I don't ever want my family to be afraid of me. I don't ever want to do anything to hurt them ever again. "  
  
"And that's why you're out here."  
  
"One of the reasons." To atone for sins I did a long time ago, yeah. To avenge my father, yeah. To prove to myself that I'll never let myself sink as low as I did, yeah. But also to show the people I love that that kid wasn't me. That this responsible, hard-working guy IS me.  
  
Wayne doesn't know that. He thinks I'm here for the adventure, for the thrill of being a superhero.  
  
"Has your dad gotten any better?" She laughs.  
  
"My dad's never going to change. Nothing will bring him back to the way he used to be."  
  
"Before your mom died?" She stares off into the distance and nods.  
  
"We used to be a family. Then he just decided that we were going to leave our family and come to America, where we know no one and have no one and he doesn't seem to grasp that he's abandoned the only thing he had worth living for."  
  
"The only thing I had worth living for." She adds, still staring away.  
  
If you had something worth living for, worth dying for, why the hell would you leave it?  
  
"Why don't you go back? You don't seem like the kind of person who would blindly follow her father around."  
  
"Contrary to popular belief, I do have some semblance of a heart in me." She replies, glancing at me.  
  
"I can't leave him alone. He'll destroy himself." She could probably do it for him. I can't believe that anyone who fathered Lydia Meraviglia would have a problem standing up to life.  
  
"I doubt that." Lydia shakes her head and smiles sadly at me, almost telling me immediately that I don't understand.  
  
"I come from a long line of strong people. If I have such a hard time keeping it together, what makes you think my father is doing any better?" Fathers are supposed to be strong. Mine was. Wayne is.  
  
"It'll get better."  
  
"It won't get better. But I will." She replies, almost holding her head up with pride as she says it.  
  
"Now is there a particular reason you've stopped by, or were you just in the neighborhood?" Uh.  
  
But while I'm busy trying to formulate some kind of answer, Lydia's already beat me to it.  
  
"Never mind. There aren't answers for everything." 


	8. Dimostrare

Two nights ago:  
  
I run down the stairs, almost tripping as I do, gasping for breath as I finally reach Wayne. I'm a half hour late.  
  
"Where's the fire?" Wayne mutters blandly, staring up at me from his chair, that disapproving look of stone on his face.  
  
"I'm sorry." I wheeze.  
  
Yesterday evening:  
  
I peek around the corner. Wayne isn't in the chair. Maybe, just maybe I can sneak into the suit, in the car, and be out being Batman before the old guy realizes I'm late.  
  
"I hope you're not planning on making a habit out of this McGinnis." Wayne says, stepping out from the shadows.  
  
Tonight:  
  
Tonight's the same story- I don't even bother to try and hide myself from Wayne, nor run to make myself a few more seconds on time.  
  
"You're late." Wayne says, staring at the screen. It's maybe the first time I've heard him state the obvious. It's the 3rd night in a row that I've been late, and the annoyance in his voice tells me that he's not going to put up with it much longer.  
  
"I could apologize, but I know you'd say that sorry doesn't fix things." I almost know the guy as well as he knows everything else. Wayne turns around.  
  
"You could explain just where you've been lately." If I tell him, will he understand? Probably not, because I don't even understand why I've been spending the hours between being Terry and being Batman with Lydia Meraviglia. Possibly because I want to help her and give her advice. Also possibly because she doesn't try to help me or give me advice- she just listens.  
  
"I was hanging out with Lydia."  
"The other girl?" He doesn't seem surprised. But then again it's pretty hard to surprise Bruce Wayne.  
  
"Hey, you're the one that told me that it was my job to figure her out." He raises an eyebrow. He knows just as well as I that it was a clumsy attempt to avoid the fact that I'm late for Batman because of a girl.  
  
Just a girl.  
  
"Will she tell anyone who you are?" He asks.  
  
"No. Never." I'm completely convinced of that. While Lydia might be stubborn and a rebel without a cause, she's definitely not a liar.  
  
"Then your involvement with her is done. Suit up." He turns back to the computer. When he realizes that I'm not moving, he turns around, glaring at me. I know that look means I'm supposed to shut my mouth and become the Batman that he needs me to be. But I can't let it go at that.  
  
"Wayne, I have a problem. I don't know exactly how I feel about this girl." Although it wouldn't take a genius to figure it out. I admire her gutsy-ness. I find myself smiling every time she throws one of her perfectly-executed insults at someone. I spend hours after school on top of a roof talking to her about everything from the mask I wear at night to the mask everyone wears during the day.  
  
I'm even late to being Batman because of her.  
  
"McGinnis," Wayne says, interrupting me. "I don't care about your love life. Bother your friends with that. I don't have time for it." Just like that, the degree of separation between boss and mentor is blaring in my face. We've gone from Bruce and Terry to Wayne and Batman.  
  
In the space of 2 sentences.  
  
But he's half right. I shouldn't be letting anything affect me as Batman. I shouldn't let a girl of all things keep me from helping people that really need me. I shouldn't be slacking off the job that I had to fight for.  
  
But I also shouldn't have to feel like it's an obligation and not a privilege. I shouldn't have to feel like he's my boss and I'm an employee.  
  
I sigh and begin to put on the suit.  
  
"Sorry. For a second there I thought you were my friend." 


	9. Complicazione

The bell rings.  
  
I yawn, pulling myself up from my uncomfortable pillow- the top of my desk. Another day of school over with. I walk out of the classroom, trying to avoid making eye contact with Dana, whose locker is only a couple feet away. It doesn't work, and I can feel her glare, half enraged and half hurt on the back of my head.  
  
I didn't even have to try and tell her about my conflicting feelings. She pretty much guessed them on her own. Or drew them from her own suspicions.  
  
I would have tried to work it out with her. I never wanted to hurt her.  
  
But she stopped giving me second chances a long time ago, and she pretty much declared our relationship over with.  
  
Just as well I guess. But it doesn't make things any less complicated. I'm on my way to see Lydia, who Wayne told me not to see any more. You don't ignore orders from Bruce Wayne. Hell, you don't even ignore requests from Bruce Wayne. But here I am, doing the complete opposite of what he told me to do. I climb the escape ladder leading up to the roof, and find her sitting there again, as she has been for the past 3 weeks.  
  
"Hey Lyd." Lyd. We're on friendly enough terms now that I've given her a nickname. I almost feel like I've been doing this my whole life, climbing up to talk to her. It almost feels like I've known her forever.  
  
"You could just fly over here in that suit of yours. It would be a bit more exciting than taking the stairs." She murmurs, opening her eyes and smiling softly at me.  
  
"I like to mingle with the normal people now and again." I reply, taking my seat next to her. She's silent for almost 20 minutes. I don't pry, and I don't give her the mindless small talk that I know she won't answer. I just wait until she's ready. And she eventually always is.  
  
"He was an alcoholic for two years," She murmurs, of course talking about her father, Angelo. "He wasn't abusive or mean or anything like that- It just hurt to watch him stumble around the house, not knowing anything that was going on, slurring my name whenever he said it." At first I wonder why she's choosing to tell me this particular piece of her history, and then I hear loud, operatic Italian floating out from the building below us, slurred and incomprehensible (even though it's in another language). Instead of offering her advice that won't help, I take the route she usually does and say nothing.  
  
"Sometimes I wish I had your father." She adds.  
  
"Mine's dead. I hope you don't wish that on yours." She glances at me. I doubt it's what she meant, but I miss mine. And whether he was like hers, or like the great dad that he was, I'd still miss him like I do every day.  
  
"No. Sometimes I'd like to kill him, but I never wish he was dead." We sit in silence for a few moments more.  
  
"It's a bird." She suddenly says, pointing at the sky. I've spent a couple of weeks with her, but I still can't decipher what she means by some of her crazy remarks.  
  
"It's a plane, it's Superman?" I murmur. Lydia smirks.  
  
"The stars, McGinnis. Don't you ever look at the stars? You're surrounded by them enough." She always did have a talent of making you see what you never had before. I follow her gaze.  
  
"And you seem to think you're seeing them in the shape of a bird?"  
  
"First of all, I don't think. I know. Second of all, it's not exactly a bird." She laughs to herself for a moment.  
  
"It's more of a bat." How ironic. The Bat, exactly in the place where this Bat, myself, is supposed to be. But I'm not.  
  
I'm here with her.  
  
"I'm not seeing it." She lifts her arm, her tapered fingers slowly tracing the shape in the sky.  
  
"Ears, wings." She says, so low that it seems like she's talking to herself.  
  
She moves closer to me. Her head rests on my shoulder.  
  
She's so close that I can feel her pulse through her skin.  
  
It's a painfully romantic moment. Lydia lowers her arm, turning to look at me, as if she's just now realized how close we are to each other. The look she's giving me is so direct and fearless that I want to recoil. But I don't.  
  
Instead I kiss her.  
  
When I'm done, she smiles.  
  
"I refuse to be your girlfriend, McGinnis." She says.  
  
"And I'd have to be crazy to want to be your boyfriend."  
  
I've got to be crazy. 


	10. Scissione

"Terry!" My eyes slowly open. Mom stands over me, holding the phone out to me. I can barely remember what time I got in last night. From the way I feel it could have been anywhere from a half hour to 5 minutes ago. I take the phone from her and hold it up to my ear, rubbing my eyes with my other hand.  
  
"McGinnis?" Wayne growls. I immediately sit up. There was something..something I forgot..  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"It's customary to tell your employer if you plan on staying home sick." There is an iciness to his voice that makes me shiver. I didn't show up last night. I completely and totally forgot about it.  
  
I forgot about Batman.  
  
I ignored Batman.  
  
"You'll be there at 8:00 tonight." He says, not even waiting for me to try and excuse my way out of it. It's a statement, not a question.  
  
"Like always." There's a moment of silence in which I sense that perhaps that was the wrong thing to say.  
  
"This can't happen again, McGinnis. Got it?"  
  
"Yeah, I got it."  
  
"Don't be late." Click. I sigh and stumble out of bed. It's another day. But a day in which things are entirely different.  
  
Because of Lydia.  
  
I get to school and glance around, looking for her. She's standing by her locker.  
  
"Morning." She glances up at me with a grin.  
  
"I hope you're not expecting me to kiss you."  
  
"Nah I think I've had enough of that in the past 24 hours." We go through the day together. Nothing has particularly changed between us; Lydia is still as fearless and unpredictable as ever, and she doesn't act any differently towards me than she ever did. But still, she and I know what we have, and somehow us knowing something that no one else does makes it all the better. At the end of the day I walk out with her. I put my arm around her, but she almost doesn't seem to notice it. Practically doesn't need it.  
  
"Does anything affect you? Or do you just decide how you're going to act from whatever thoughts are in your head?" I ask her as she moves out from under my arm and slides down the handrails of the stairs. She lands on the ground below me and smiles.  
  
"Everything affects me. And I don't decide how I'm going to act. I just act." Lydia takes my hand and pulls me to my bike, hopping onto the back of it.  
  
"I guess I'm giving you a ride home." I say, laughing. She says nothing, as usual, simply waits for me to sit down and then curls her arms around me.  
  
"Let's not go home." She yells as we start to drive, the wind flying all around us.  
  
"Where do you want to go?"  
  
"Go as far in one direction as you possibly can." She answers. She's crazy enough to suggest it.  
  
And I'm crazy enough to do it. For hours we just drive, yelling things to each other over the wind, laughing at the most insane things, and I suddenly feel much younger than the hundred-year-old I'm made to feel like every day. The phone rings again.  
  
Lydia laughs in my ear as I pick it up.  
  
"McGinnis?" Wayne's rough voice again grates on my ear, rougher still from the irritation it has towards me.  
  
"I'm here."  
  
"Drop the girl."  
  
"What? It's only five!"  
  
"I don't care if it's 8 am. Drop the girl and get over here. NOW." Before I can say another word, he hangs up.  
  
"Looks like we have to postpone." I yell over the whipping winds.  
  
"No problem." Lydia answers readily. She understands. She never makes any demands of me. Or at least nothing that I consider a demand in any way.  
  
Unlike Dana, who would have shot first and asked questions later.  
  
I speed up towards her apartment and stop the bike.  
  
"So I'll see you tonight?" She smiles.  
  
"Probably not." I nod and sit there for a moment. She stares back at me.  
  
"Are you waiting for something?" She says with a smile. I feel my face's tone go a bit reddish. I was expecting normal girlfriend-ish affection. I should have known that nothing about Lydia would be normal. But while I sit there, trying to figure out a way to tell her this without getting hit, Lydia leans in and kisses me. She then turns and goes into her building, not even giving me a chance to have the last word.  
  
But I doubt I'll ever have the last word with her. I feel myself grin as I turn around and zoom back towards the outskirts of Gotham, towards Wayne Manor. The wind blows over me as I speed towards the hill. A rush of exhilaration comes with it. Only one other person understands that rush. And it's Wayne. I leave the bike at the gate and make my way in. As usual, Wayne sits at the computer in his chair. Calculating, discerning. Then he turns. Calculating and discerning me.  
  
"You're early."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Suit up."  
  
**************************************************************  
  
"You were sloppy." Wayne says as I remove the mask. I let three of tonight's criminals slip through my fingers. I wasn't fast enough. I wasn't focused enough. I woke up this morning feeling like a failure. Then I spent time with Lydia, who seemed happy enough that I was nothing but myself, and now I'm here and I'm a failure again. I wasn't at my best.  
  
And I wasn't good enough for him.  
  
"I'm sorry. I tried-"  
  
"Maybe if you had been here last night you would have done better. You've done better than that before. What's changed?" Wayne demands, staring me in the face.  
  
Wayne's no longer the problem between me and my love life. My love life is now the problem between me and Wayne.  
  
"Nothing's changed." He still stares at me. He knows I won't say it. But from the angry look in his eyes I can tell that he already knows what it is. I spend too much time with Lydia. I neglect the job. I neglect him.  
  
"Look, I had an off night, okay? It won't happen again." For a moment Wayne betrays the cool façade of being emotionless and glares at me. My answer was lazy. Adolescent.  
  
If I were him I would glare at me too.  
  
"It wasn't just tonight, Terry. The past month you've been late, distant, and not at all interested in being Batman."  
  
"That's not true!" Well, except for the late part.  
  
And maybe I was a little distant.  
  
"I told you from day one I wouldn't take anything less than my standards, McGinnis." He says in a low voice. His guillotine is hanging above my head already.  
  
"That's the problem isn't it, Wayne?" I can feel my pent up frustration, aggression, everything slowly taking over my body like some unstoppable disease. I can't do enough at home, I can't do enough at school, and obviously I can't do nearly enough here.  
  
"No one can meet your standards. You don't accept anything less than yourself, and I can't be you! No matter what I do, I will never be the Batman you were!" For a moment Bruce Wayne is silent. The only kind of Batman I can be is my own. I can't recreate the Batman Wayne will never have a chance to be again.  
  
"Go home McGinnis." He says. I turn to go.  
  
"Leave the suit." I stop. Leave the suit? Leave Batman?  
  
"What?"  
  
"Leave it, and come back when you're ready to live up to the privilege of wearing it." I open my mouth to protest, but I know he's right. I lay the suit over the chair, staring back at Wayne.  
  
What the hell have I done?  
  
I've disappointed him.  
  
And worst of all I've disappointed myself. 


	11. Lottare

It's been a week.  
  
"Terry, get to school already!" Mom says, moving around the kitchen in her usual 125 mile-per-hour fashion. Matty tosses a piece of cereal at me. I bat it back halfheartedly with my spoon.  
  
"What's the matter with you? You'd think that you'd be happy having so much time off from work!" She says, flying out the doorway without waiting for me to come up with an answer. Matty tousles my hair into my eyes before laughing gleefully and running out the door after her.  
  
It's been a week.  
  
"Earth to Terry!" Max yells, snapping her fingers in front of my face.  
  
"Don't forget about that Trig test we have after lunch." Trig? You'd think that with so much time off I would have been able to catch up on my homework.  
  
You'd also think that with so much time off, I would be able to sleep at night too.  
  
"Boy it takes a lot to keep you on your toes." She says, laughing. I stare blankly at her.  
  
"I hope you're not like this when you're Batman. You should have been dead by now." I stare at my lunch miserably. Lydia, sitting next to me, is silent.  
  
"Boy, get some sleep." Max says, more gently this time, her face looking slightly confused because she's smart enough to know that there's a deeper reason for my depressed mood.  
  
It's been a week.  
  
"Lyd." I call.  
  
"Terry." Lydia murmurs as I sit down and put my arm around her.  
  
"You shouldn't be here." For a second I almost want to scream. Is she rejecting me too?  
  
"I know." I know that's not what she meant. And I know that she's right.  
  
I shouldn't be here on the roof with Lydia. I should be in the cave with Wayne, or in the suit being what Wayne was. I should be Batman. I am Batman.  
  
"He thinks I'm wrong in almost every move I make."  
  
"Did he ever say you were wrong?" No. Come to think of it, Wayne's never said I was wrong. Not once.  
  
"No."  
  
"He was just telling you that it wasn't right for him. That he wouldn't have done it that way. Not necessarily that it's wrong." She doesn't even put a maybe in there. She says it all matter-of-factly, as if she's an authority on the subject despite the fact that she's never met Wayne in her life.  
  
"I messed up. He doesn't forget your screwups."  
  
"He remembers them, but I doubt he holds them against you."  
  
"He doesn't like you." I never would have been so blunt with anyone else, but Lydia respects nothing else. She smiles against my coat.  
  
"McGinnis, you've been sitting here for the past half hour, telling me that you don't think you can do anything right for the old man, but you're still checking your watch every 10 minutes and looking over your shoulder every time there's a noise. Obviously something from him is rubbing off." I gaze at her. How does she do that?  
  
"I guess I better go then. As much as I'd rather sit here with you." Lydia grins.  
  
"I'd rather you be out there." I give her a kiss and make my way back down the stairs.  
  
***********************************************************  
  
"Mr. Wayne?" I call, walking into the cave cautiously. Ace isn't at my heels, growling, so I take that as a good sign.  
  
"Mr. Wayne?" I call again, making sure to pronounce the Mr. as loud as I can. I respect the hell out of him. And I want my job back.  
  
"No need to shout, Mr. McGinnis." Wayne answers back, stepping out of the shadows in the entrance he prefers above all else: dark and unexpected. We both stand for a second, Wayne able to read my entire week in my face, and me staring back at him and wondering why I can't even decipher what mood the man is in. Without a word, Wayne goes to the computer and sits down. I go to the suit and begin to put it on. You never need words with Bruce Wayne.  
"Terry-"He calls as I'm about to climb into the car.  
  
"Do the job well. Do it well and it'll pay you back when you need it the most." I debate whether or not to try and figure out his cryptic remark, or simply nod as if I understand his wisdom and get out there.  
  
I nod.  
  
5 seconds and I'm out there, just as if the past week had never happened, just as if I'm the best damn Batman there ever was, ever will be, and this is were I belong. I find some jerks with knives terrorizing every one who happens to turn down their particular alley. I land and walk straight up to them. Bold. Fearless.  
  
Cocky, as Wayne would call it.  
  
"Nice costume, buddy. I think it'd look better on me though." One sneers. It's hard to keep a straight face out here when you know what's about to happen to these losers.  
  
"It's not exactly your size." I don't even have to punch him. This suit's strong enough that all I have to do is give him a shove. He flies back against the wall, dropping his knife. I raise my hand to pin him against the wall by his neck.  
  
"Vinny.help me!" He croaks to his partner. Vinny drops the knife and takes off running. I turn back to the other one.  
  
"Let me go! I'll do anything!" He begs.  
  
"See that guy?" I growl, motioning with my head towards another person wandering down the alley.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Go rob him." I release him. The man stares at me for a minute, rubbing his neck, then picks up his knife and heads toward the man. I laugh to myself.  
  
Stupid dreg just pulled a knife on a cop.  
  
Wayne grunts in approval. I smile.  
  
Things are getting back to normal.  
  
"Smooth, McGinnis." Wayne murmurs. I grin.  
  
"Thanks, Wayne."  
  
I find two more thugs trying to terrorize a couple. I take care of them; knock out a couple of purse-snatchers, and all without breaking a sweat.  
  
"How's that, boss?" I say to Wayne. No answer. Ignoring my comments as usual.  
  
"Where to next?" Still no answer.  
  
"Wayne?" Silence. I feel panic beginning to invade my previous sense of triumph, making that triumph all the more bittersweet.  
  
"Mr. Wayne? Are you there?" I strain my ears, listening for that gruff voice to say that I should get back to work or that I'm wasting time calling his name.  
  
There's nothing. 


	12. Agitazione

I land in the cave. I leap out of the car and run towards Wayne. He's slumped down into his chair.  
  
"Mr. Wayne?" I say, yanking off my mask. He still lays there. He's alive.  
  
"Bruce?" I say even more tentatively. Wayne shudders and opens his eyes. For a few moments he stares ahead, probably trying to figure out what failed him and how.  
  
Maybe he was just asleep.  
  
"Don't get old, McGinnis." Wayne says, reaching for his cane.  
  
"It becomes very irritating." I sigh, leaning back against the desk.  
  
"No matter how old you get you can still scare the hell out of someone." Wayne doesn't answer me. He just goes up the stairs, breathing long and slow. It's almost scary how someone so powerful, brave, and intimidating can suddenly look so...old.  
  
Maybe it was something else entirely.  
  
***********************************************************  
  
"Hey Terry." I look up. Matty stands in my doorway.  
  
"What do you want? I'm gonna be late so don't try any of your little tricks on me." Matty gives me that I-can-annoy-you-to-death-but-I'm-still- your-little-brother-so-you-have-to-love-me look.  
  
"Get the phone." I pick it up.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Mr. McGinnis?" The voice is unfamiliar.  
  
"Speaking."  
  
"This is Dr. Stillson from Gotham General." Great. A Doctor.  
  
There's only one guy I know that could need a doctor. Of any kind.  
  
"Oh no." I groan.  
  
"Don't worry, Mr. McGinnis. Your employer, Mr. Bruce Wayne, asked me to call you to inform you that you won't have to report in for work this evening. He's in our care at the moment."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"He was having chest pains this morning at his home and prudently decided to call an ambulance for himself. It's nothing serious at the moment." For a second I think of skipping school and rushing over there. I'm worried. Wayne refuses to die. But there's a danger that Wayne could die, and that's making me uneasy.  
  
Nah. Wayne would just frown and tell me to go back to school. I can hear him even now: I don't need you at my bedside, McGinnis. There's nothing wrong with me. Stop wasting time.  
  
He's right. So I hang up the phone and head out the door, my head full of the situations that could arise with Wayne's death. Then I realize that I'm blowing everything out of proportion.  
  
But Wayne will die. Eventually, one day, he will die.  
  
And then what happens to me?  
  
I arrive at school, getting jostled and shoved by everyone trying to make their way to first period. All I can do is stumble through them, wondering why I feel so horrible. I should be with Wayne. Making sure that nothing happens to him. Making sure he doesn't go anywhere.  
  
I need him. I'd miss him.  
  
Lydia. Lydia's the only one who can possibly make me laugh at this miserable morning. I head to her locker.  
  
"Hey." SLAM. Lydia jumps so violently that she slams her locker door. And I almost jump myself when I see her. The face that's normally calm, unfazed and unafraid of anything around her is pale and frightened. She stares at me like I'm some mass murderer with a chainsaw, her eyes wide and for once not giving me a witty morning greeting.  
  
Is anything normal today?  
  
"Lyd, what is it? Geeze, I didn't think it was possible to startle you." I move to put my arm around her but she backs away. Backs away from ME?  
  
"Nothing. I have to go." She says, very calmly, but all the time she's glancing around me, looking for an escape, refusing to make eye contact with me. I don't let her go that easy. I grab her arm as she tries to brush past me.  
  
"What's wrong?" She opens her mouth to say something, but instead pulls away and disappears into the milling crowds. I stare after her for a minute, then go on to my class more annoyed than ever. What the hell is the matter with her? I can understand a lot of her crazy behavior. I can find a lot of it amusing. I'm in love with her because of it. But the other 50% of it I can't reason with. Lydia seems almost AFRAID. AFRAID of ME. It's the stupidest and most unlikely thing I've ever thought of.  
  
But it's the most logical explanation.  
  
The thought runs through my head all 2nd period, rambles till 3rd, and is just as strong when 4th ends. I slog through the hall. I don't see her like I normally do, and I half-imagine that she's avoiding me on purpose. I feel like everyone's staring at me, like everyone's talking about me and that somehow they know the inner turmoil that's going on in my head. Lydia's not here to help me for God-knows-why. Wayne's not here to help me because he's cursed with a human body that can't keep up with his superhuman soul. I bump into Max, spilling my books all over the floor.  
  
"Sorry." I murmur, bending to pick them up. Max inhales deeply.  
  
"It's all right Terry." She's got that annoying tone of pity in her voice. Why the hell should she pity me? Just because I've lost my understanding girlfriend and my misunderstood mentor all in one morning...  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Nothing." I scoff.  
  
"That what everyone says." Max doesn't answer.  
  
"Sorry for snapping. I guess I'm a little paranoid today. It feels like everything's going wrong and everyone seems to know about it."  
  
"I think they do." Max says, looking around. And I begin to notice that everyone else has got that face of pity on.  
  
This is, to date, one of the foremost confusing mornings of my life.  
  
"Wayne's in the hospital. And now Lydia's mad at me or something." At this Max looks up.  
  
"I'd expect her to be a little upset, Terry." Why the hell should Lydia be angry with me?  
  
"I don't know why! It's not like I tried to help her lately or anything. We all know how much she hates that. Things were going great. What the hell's her problem?" Max's jaw drops.  
  
"You mean she didn't tell you?" Tell me what? Lydia tells me more than she tells herself. We have no secrets.  
  
"Max, what is going on? Is something wrong with her?" Max glances around, and then pulls me into a corner so we're out of earshot.  
  
"I didn't want to bring it up, but God I thought she'd tell YOU of all people!"  
  
"Tell me what?" Max takes a deep breath before answering. I feel my stomach lurch.  
  
"Lydia's pregnant." 


	13. Svantaggio

I suddenly feel very ill. I run to the bathroom and throw up, my own brand of morning sickness.  
  
It feels like someone's taken my life of 17 years and replaced it with one that I've never seen one day of.  
  
Calm down, McGinnis. Just take things slowly. Take things in small simple thoughts.  
  
I am Terry McGinnis. Simple enough.  
  
I have.had a girlfriend named Lydia. Fine so far.  
  
I knocked her up. This is the part where the stomach pains come in.  
  
The bell rings, asking me to put on hold whatever's going on in my life and go sit in a Trig class. I can't do that right now. I walk out of the bathroom, past my class and out of the building. I find my way to Gotham General and navigate the halls to Wayne's room.  
  
I am Terry McGinnis.  
  
I have a boss/mentor/something-I'm-not-quite-sure-how-to-define named Bruce Wayne.  
  
He's lying in a hospital bed. This is the part where I begin to get a headache.  
  
Wayne looks impossibly fragile amid the jungle of machines and medical equipment around him. But nothing can stop his ability to notice everything. He immediately opens his eyes.  
  
"What are you doing here?" He says, without any surprise or annoyance. Pretty much without kind of emotion.  
  
I can't tell him what I've just heard. That I've ignored his advice, thrown his wisdom back in his face and jeopardized my own ability to have a life, have a future, to be Batman.  
  
And I can't face the realization that, because Lydia and I were not careful, I might never be able to see Bruce Wayne again.  
  
"You don't look very well." He adds, giving me that once-over that he gets all his information from. I don't feel very well either.  
  
"You don't look so good yourself." Wayne stares back at me, fearless and maybe even incensed at the suggestion that he's not at 110%.  
  
"I'm fine, McGinnis. You have the night off. Why aren't you out enjoying yourself?" Because I enjoy myself every night I don't have the night off. Because I've got nowhere else to go, and nowhere I'd rather be.  
  
But you can't admit these things to Bruce Wayne. You have to be on your guard, showing him that one day you too can be just as impenetrable a fortress as he is.  
  
"Hey, if something happens to you, I'm out of a job." Wayne allows himself a slight smirk.  
  
"You think so?" I know so. I can't even fathom being out there without knowing that he's back at the cave, watching to make sure I don't kill myself or his creation. I slump into a chair next to the bed.  
  
"So what happened?" I ask the question even though I know I'm not going to get an answer. Bruce Wayne doesn't talk about his failings, either physically or otherwise. He gives me that look I get so often- telling me that I have no idea what I'm doing. So I wait a few seconds for him to say something. Eventually he always does.  
  
"You're not helping me McGinnis. Go enjoy your night off, because I promise it'll be a long time before you get another one. Use the time to go talk to that girl you can't seem to stay away from." I look up at him. Wayne stares back, unfazed. That's when I realize that Wayne knows I've still been seeing Lydia the entire time.  
  
I should have known I can't hide anything from him.  
  
The irony of it is that I am hiding something from him, and he's not seeing it. I sigh and get up, moving towards the door.  
  
"So you'll be back tomorrow night?"  
  
"I'd be back there right now if they'd let me." Wayne replies, closing his eyes.  
  
**************************************************************  
  
For once in my life, I've taken Wayne's advice and gone to find the other person who might be leaving me.  
  
Lydia still sits on her roof. Apparently being pregnant doesn't change her- it just changes her attitude towards me. I walk up behind her.  
  
How did it happen? When did it happen?  
  
Most importantly, why the hell did I find it out from MAX?  
  
I don't immediately start interrogating her. It'll only drive her away further. Instead I stand and wait for her to start, which takes a few minutes.  
  
"Shouldn't you be out at your night job?" Is the first thing she says, and she says it so blandly and impersonally that it almost feels like it's the first night we've been up here together instead of the thousandth.  
  
I almost get angry, that she of all people is acting this way without knowing what's happened to me today.  
  
Then I remember what's happened to her today, and I forget my anger.  
  
"When did you find out?" I finally say. I don't have to ask her to repeat what I already know. Besides, she already knows there's no need for that.  
  
"Last night." The night she told me to leave her, to go back to Wayne and back to what I love. Despite the fact that I love her too.  
  
I should have been there for her. I should have been there with her. I shouldn't have done this to her.  
  
I sit down next to her. She draws her knees up from the edge of the building to her face and buries her face in them.  
  
"Today, at school.why didn't you just tell me instead of making me think something was really wrong?" Something WAS really wrong, but I choose to ignore that.  
  
"Why should I tell you?" Lydia answers, glancing at me. Why should she tell me?  
  
"You mean you weren't planning on telling me today?"  
  
"I wasn't planning on telling you at all." Well. That's a new one.  
  
So Lydia was just going to quietly let herself fade out of my life, thinking that I wouldn't notice that she had a baby and it happened to look a lot like me?  
  
"Mind telling me why?" And for a second I wonder if it was because she thought I would abandon her, leave her to her own misery and concentrate on my own life. That's the person I've been trying to make up for my entire life. Lydia knows this. And so I doubt that's the reason.  
  
"McGinnis, you have a hard time getting to school on time." Lydia says, not smiling but sounding like she wants to, like she wants to treat this like a game, like part of life's adventures, but something won't let her. "You wouldn't know what to do with a baby."  
  
"Who are you to tell me what I would do in that situation?" Actually she's the perfect person to tell me what I would do in that situation.  
  
We're IN that situation.  
  
We went too fast. Things went too well, and then we went too fast. And between her father and me, and between my family/Batman/Wayne and her, neither of us wanted to think about anything but the fact that we could escape from all that when we were with each other.  
  
Now we can't escape from it anywhere.  
  
"I know everything that happens to you, from your family to the old man, to what you really think of yourself. Did you really think I was going to callously tell you that you had better provide for me and what you did to me and give you another problem and responsibility added to the hundreds you already have?" I stare back at her, half still hurt that she wouldn't tell me and half amazed that she would have been so self-sacrificial.  
  
"You didn't do this to me, McGinnis. I did it to myself." She finishes, resting her head on her knees.  
  
"We did this to you. You know that I'm not just going to say thanks and walk away."  
  
"I wish you would." I almost demand to know why, but then I remember how you have to approach things with Lydia. You have to wait until she thinks it's time to tell you.  
  
"This is big Terry. It'll be nothing but disaccordo." Disaccordo. Problems. Lydia never speaks her own language to me unless she's incredibly happy or incredibly upset.  
  
"I'm not going to leave you alone with those problems." Lydia glances up at me. I notice the long dried tear stains on her face.  
  
"Did you tell your father?" She nods. For once the apartment below us, usually full of Angelo's drunken revelries, is quiet. I notice the bruise on Lydia's cheekbone.  
  
"All you've done is knocked up a girl, McGinnis. It's a bit more complicated in Italy. I've taken the name Meraviglia and blackened it to a singe. Family honor comes before compassion." She's been thrown out of the only thing that matters to her, the thing her people would die for: her family.  
  
And on top of that she's been forced into the position that she hates above all else. She needs help, and she needs me. I put my arm around her and she gives up trying to keep me at a distance.  
  
What the hell would Wayne say if he knew what happened today?  
  
What would Dad say if he knew what I've done?  
  
More importantly, what the hell do I do about what I've done? 


	14. Disaccordo

Snow whips around my face. I shiver and rush into the front door of my building. Although I've climbed this set of stairs- the stairs to my apartment- every day of my life, they seem longer and longer as each year goes by. I finally get up to the top, walk in, and lean back against the door with a sigh.  
  
"Terry." Mom says crisply, coming out of the kitchen.  
  
That's my salutation now. She says my name like I'm some estranged relative instead of her son.  
  
"Hi Mom." She says nothing else, and sits down on the couch in silence. Lydia gives me a smile from behind the kitchen counter, despite the fact that she looks like she could fall over from exhaustion at any moment.  
  
This is our new arrangement: Lydia lives with us. Matty, who knows what's happened but treats it in the blasé manner of a 10 year old, thinks it's hilarious that my girlfriend is here 24 hours a day.  
  
Well, not really girlfriend anymore. More of a wife, ignoring the fact that we had a month of arguments:  
  
Lydia: I'm not marrying you, McGinnis.  
Terry: Why not?  
Lydia: You think it's the noble thing to do. It's not. It's a stupid idea.  
Terry: How much is it going to take to convince you that I'm not like every other guy on the planet? I'm not doing this because I think I have to. I don't do anything I think I have to do with you.  
Lydia: I'm never getting married, McGinnis. Especially not to you.  
Terry: Why?  
Lydia: Marriage rips people apart.  
  
I practically had to drag her to a justice of the peace, where she calmly said "I do" without any hesitation or fighting. Lydia has to do things her own way.  
  
Mom still sits stiffly on the couch, like she does every night, silent and probably angry. She isn't too happy with the way things are. The fact that I knocked up a girl destroyed the good Terry McGinnis, and now I'm fighting to get rid of the irresponsible gang member she thinks I am again.  
  
Lydia goes from home to a job to night school to bed and then wakes up at 6 am and does it all over again. I go from school to Wayne, who still seems to have no idea that this is going on (taking into account that I haven't got the guts to tell him), and make it home in time to say good night to everyone.  
  
I don't attempt to try and talk to Mom. She just gives me one word answers. I instead go into the kitchen to see Lydia. She stands over the sink, washing dishes mechanically. One thing Mom is not upset about is Lydia. Since she came, Lydia's done every bit of housework this small apartment could possibly have.  
  
"It's freezing out there."  
  
"Do you mean in the snow or in the living room?" Lydia replies, smirking at me.  
  
"Everywhere." I take off my coat, my teeth still chattering a bit. Tonight was pretty tough. Although that suit can make you infallible against blows of any kind, it's not too good at protecting you from the elements.  
  
"What is that?" Lyd says suddenly, soap suds flying as she turns to look at a large bleeding cut on my arm that I almost forgot about.  
  
Pain is part of the job. You learn to ignore it after a while.  
  
"The odds were slightly in their favor." I say in a low voice. Lyd just stares at my arm for a moment, her eyes darting from one scar to another.  
  
No one ever said being Batman was a glamorous job.  
  
I look back at her. Lyd's pregnant form is almost comical because it looks so fake, like she's got some big beach ball shoved under her shirt. But it's real. And I don't think any of us have come to terms with that, despite the fact that next month will be the end of it. Lydia dries her hands and goes into the bedroom. I follow her unspoken command and go after her.  
  
"Are you ever afraid, Terry?" She asks, once we're inside and the door is closed, blocking our conversation from Mom, who wouldn't want to hear even if she could, and Matty, who would hear but not understand.  
  
"Afraid of what?"  
  
"To go out there. To do that every night." No. Not afraid. It's fun, in a smash-your-kneecaps-nails-for-breakfast kind of way. It's redeeming. It's an honor.  
  
Then why do I sometimes feel like I come close to destroying a mantle that isn't entirely mine yet?  
  
"No, not really. If I'm ever afraid, it's fear of disappointing people." I mean everyone I love, but she knows I mean Wayne.  
  
Wayne's health is deteriorating.  
  
He stays in the cave now, hardly ever emerging. It seems like that's the only place he's got left that doesn't make him feel like an old man. He refuses to admit his physical failings to me. I only know because I'm partially Wayne's personal assistant- It's not always a guise to keep me in the suit. Whether the city's in trouble or he's in trouble, I always get a call. Even when I'm taking him home from the hospital, the old man only tells me to shut up and drive. And I do. I don't want to face the fact that he's dying any more than he does.  
  
But Lyd's got the mindset to think about what I can't, and she knows that I'm in over my head if, heaven forbid, something does happen to Wayne.  
  
The phone rings.  
  
"Mr. McGinnis?" The man says, but I already recognize that medical tone. It's the hospital. Irony at its hilt.  
  
"Does he need me to take him home?" For a second the doctor doesn't answer, taken aback by my directness. I just left Wayne in the cave an hour and a half ago. It doesn't say much for his health if he's already back at the hospital.  
  
"Mr. McGinnis, I'm at Wayne Manor. Mr. Wayne would like to request that you come here to attend to him." I sigh.  
  
"Tell him I'll be there as soon as I can." I hang up. Lydia opens the window for me.  
  
"It might be faster if you fly." For once I'm a step ahead of her, and I'm already half into the suit. I pull the mask over my face.  
  
"I'll be back tomorrow." I murmur, kissing her on the cheek.  
  
"Don't rush, McGinnis." She says softly.  
  
**********************************************************  
  
"Mr. Wayne?" I call out, entering the house. Ace comes running to me, but there's no sign of Wayne. No sign of the doctor on the phone either. I go to the cave. Wayne sits in his chair as usual. He looks like he's been nailed there for quite a while, worn out and faded.  
  
"You called?" I say, pulling off my mask.  
  
"Put that back on." He says. I do.  
  
"You're going out there."  
  
"I've already been out there tonight Wayne. Is this what you had some doctor call me all the way back over here for?" Wayne lets his cane fall from the chair. It smacks the stone floor with a resounding crack that makes me jump.  
  
"This is your job Terry. You're going out there." While still firm and threatening, Wayne sounds tired. I decide that arguing with him wouldn't be the best thing to do right now. Especially since his heart could go at any minute. So I go to the car without another word and rocket back into the sky. Gotham lies at my feet. I've been out here every night for almost 2 years, and even now I haven't seen every inch of it, nor know every thread of its gigantic web. I know Wayne does. And that makes me want to know every part of it too.  
  
"So where I am I going?" It takes a moment before Wayne responds.  
  
"Find something." Find something? I've never looked for anything on my own. All I get is "Go here, McGinnis" and I do.  
  
Where do I look? I want to ask Wayne how he expects me to find the trouble that he's so good at locating, but you can't ask Bruce Wayne things like that. So I hover around for awhile, until I see some bruisers hanging around outside a door. Big guys protecting doors usually means there's something you're not supposed to interrupt is going on behind the door. I leap out of the car, flashing the camouflage on and putting my fingers up to the door to listen. I almost laugh at the fact that I'm standing only a couple inches from the two men, and neither one of them realizes I'm there, despite the fact that they can hear my breathing. The voices coming from inside are four separate ones, although there's three that are strong and confident, and a fourth that sounds as though he's got something to hide.  
  
"Boys, I smell a rat. For weeks now we been tryin' to close this import deal with the coke dealers, and every time we been held up." One of them says in a Brooklyn-ish kind of voice. Probably Mafia guys. Although their era died out a long time ago, a couple of them are still around, trying to bring back the glory days. If Lyd were here she'd probably charge into the building and give them a lecture on how they were disgracing her race. Not by being member of organized crime, but by playing up to the stereotypes in the movies. Wayne doesn't give me any instructions. I know he's still there, but for once he's waiting for me to make a move.  
  
"You got any ideas, Luca?" One of them says nastily. You don't have to be a genius to figure out that Luca's the traitor and they know it.  
  
"Someone on the inside I guess." Luca responds, trying to sound just as tough as the others but failing miserably.  
  
"Yeah, someone's been rattin' us out to the cops. Someone who knows every little detail. Someone kinda like you, Luca." I can't see them, but the whimpering of Luca and the click of metal that I hear tells me they've probably got a gun to his head.  
  
Now would probably be a good time to act.  
  
I slam my fist into one of the bruisers. He falls back, completely caught off guard. The other one glances around, having no idea what hit the other. Bruisers aren't usually the most intelligent bunch. The one that fell gets up and shoves the other one, thinking that he hit him. The other shoves back. I don't even have to get rid of them. I slip in through the door and creep slowly around to where the traitor with the gun to his head stands. The guy cocks the gun. I throw a batarang that smacks the gun out of his hand. All four of them stand for a minute staring at it.  
  
Wayne smiles and I can practically hear his normal grunt of approval.  
  
I do my usual stunts: Flipping around in a devil-may-care-fashion until some of the men decide to approach me. I give them some quick punches, uppercuts, kicks to the stomach. These guys have pretty large stomachs, so a couple ones to the gut has them all down quick. Tonight doesn't feel like a night for witty banter, so I do all of this without my usual sarcastic comebacks to their taunts. I feel like I'm out here tonight to accomplish something more, only I don't know what it is. The police show up right on cue, and I take my usual exit into the shadows- no one having seen me at all. I perch on top of a building, breathing hard.  
  
"Now what?" Wayne doesn't answer. He waits until I repeat the question.  
  
"That's entirely up to you, McGinnis." He says, his voice slow and decisive. Up to me? I never decide what to do next. I do what I have to and I keep doing it until he says I can go home. I stare out at the skyline. It's quiet. The city's always quiet once my nights are through. That's usually how I know I can go home.  
  
"I doubt there's anything left out here, boss. Especially after two outings."  
  
"It's your choice, Terry. It's on you now." Wayne says, without any hint of anything in his voice. Almost like he's saying his last rites. I don't bother to ask him what he means by suddenly letting me make my own decisions or trusting me with the way Batman should do things. I go back to the car and begin to fly back to the cave. I begin to second-guess myself- Did I do things right? Did I do them the way Batman would have done them?  
  
Did I do what Wayne would have approved of?  
  
Wayne wouldn't approve of me second-guessing myself: "Don't make decisions twice, McGinnis. Make them right the first time and you won't have to." He's said it a lot. I've doubted myself a lot. I reach the cave and leap out. Wayne still sits in the chair, unmoving and stoic, as he always is.  
  
"You're not going to call me back here a third time, are you?" I say half-jokingly. Wayne doesn't answer.  
  
"Wayne?" Old man's probably asleep. Wouldn't be the first time.  
  
"Hey, Mr. Wayne, wake up." I say, a little louder. Wayne doesn't move. Old man probably had some kind of stroke or something, which will give him another trip to the hospital. He'll love that.  
  
I reach Wayne. He isn't sleeping. Ace is whining at his side. His normal breathing, the heavy lungs taking large gasps of air into the body that can't get enough of it, is hauntingly absent. It's completely silent in the cave.  
  
He didn't have a stroke.  
  
I begin to shake Wayne, calling out his name louder and louder until it's all I can hear, echoing back to me from the caverns above me. I feel my own heart rate rise, my lungs clutching for breath, as I'm sure his did. My head begins to swim. Wayne's eyes are closed. His face is locked in that normal streamlined expression of slight amusement and slight suspicion. He's not going to wake up.  
  
Wayne's dead. 


	15. Morte

"I'm sorry about Mr. Wayne." The mention of his name jolts me back into reality. It's Monday. Two days after Wayne's death. And the unspeakable event has finally gotten Mom to speak to me.  
  
The miserable side of me wants to get angry, to yell at her because she never talked to Mr. Wayne nor worked with Mr. Wayne and she knew nothing of Mr. Wayne except for the paychecks I brought home to her.  
  
But the reasonable side, the one that Wayne helped shape, tells me that that would be a stupid idea.  
  
"Thanks, Mom." I can hear how dead and hollow my voice is.  
  
"I know you've spent a lot of time with him, and you must miss him."  
  
I miss him more than I ever thought I would.  
  
"Yeah." But I can't tell Mom that. She'd think I was being stupid, being just as sad about the death of my boss as I was about the last death that happened to us. Mom goes back about her business, happy that we're talking again.  
  
It's like when Dad died, except they don't give me looks of pity or sympathetic treatment.  
  
It's just Terry's boss. Why should we feel sorry for him?  
  
I go in my room and shut the door. Lydia's in there, getting ready to go to work. She immediately stops what she's doing when she sees me, but doesn't say anything.  
  
Not even Lyd can think of anything to say to me.  
  
"Don't tell me you're sorry." I say, sitting down on the bed.  
  
"I'm not sorry." Lydia replies.  
  
"And don't say you know what he meant to me."  
  
"I don't know what he means to you." Lyd sits down on the bed next to me.  
  
"What are you going to say?" She stares at me for a minute.  
  
"Sometimes the best thing to say is nothing at all, McGinnis." I bet she and Wayne would have gotten along pretty well, if Wayne had stopped hating her long enough to meet her.  
  
The phone rings. I resist the urge to rip the thing out of the wall and throw it out the window.  
  
"Mr. McGinnis?" I half-imagine its Wayne, who'll laugh that I believed such an impossible thing as his death.  
  
"This is the executor of Mr. Wayne's estate." Oh yeah. The guy who'll dole out parts of Wayne's life to whoever happens to be on the list.  
  
"I noticed you weren't present at the reading of Mr. Wayne's will." Yeah. Like I want to be there when Wayne's family home and consequently the Batcave gets sold to someone else.  
  
"Was I supposed to be?"  
  
"Well, I thought you'd be a bit interested, considering you're the sole beneficiary."  
  
What?  
  
"He's pretty much left everything to you, Mr. McGinnis. His home, all his assets, including a 49% ownership of Wayne-Powers Corporation. It's all yours, Mr. McGinnis."  
  
Well.  
  
At least there's no danger of Batman going into the wrong hands. But all his money, his home, his whole company, and Batman to boot?  
  
I sit there in stupid silence for a minute.  
  
"I'm also calling to inform you that Paxton Powers, current CEO of Wayne-Powers Industries, would like you to meet with the Board of Trustees this morning to discuss your share in the company." Paxton Powers. I haven't seen him since his father died.  
  
What's it going to be like working with a guy whose father I killed? Then again, what's it going to be like working with a guy whose father killed mine?  
  
"I'll be down there immediately." I answer, almost sounding like an overeager recruit going off to boot camp.  
  
"Good luck Mr. McGinnis." I'm going to need all the luck I can get. 


	16. Del Signo Al Fine

Wayne Powers Industries, Wayne's "normal" job, stands at a commanding 114 stories before me. I gulp down my nervousness.  
  
Oh God Wayne, what the hell have you gotten me into?  
  
I enter the building. Powers is waiting for me.  
  
"Mr. McGinnis." He's rather less than civil.  
  
"The board is waiting." He leads us into a conference room. 24 middle aged executives turn and stare at me. I feel my stomach lurch.  
  
"Gentleman, this is Mr. Terry McGinnis. He's skipped school to be with us today." A round of snickers flows up from the table.  
  
"Well, gentlemen, as you are no doubt aware, the untimely passing of Wayne-Powers founder Bruce Wayne has left up with a 100% ownership of the company. However, I have since learned that the late Mr. Wayne has left all his worldly possessions, including his 49% share of Wayne-Powers Co. to his caretaker, our young friend Mr. McGinnis." His voice is crisp, irritated. The executives murmur and glance at me in a wholly impersonal fashion, as if I'm a bug flying incessantly around their heads.  
  
"But," Powers continues, smirking at my understandably nervous expression. "I believe I have a proposal which will rectify the situation."  
  
"What exactly needs to be rectified?" All heads turn to me, and I realize that I'm the one who said it. Powers goes on as if I'm not even there.  
  
"Seeing as how Mr. McGinnis is a mere 17 years old-"  
  
"18." Powers gazes at me.  
  
"Forgive me, 18 years old, and in that he has no experience whatsoever-"  
  
"How much experience is needed when you inherit something?" One of the board members begins to chuckle, but catches himself abruptly.  
  
"Every man in here worked for their position. They did not have it handed to them from an old man's will." Powers replies smugly.  
  
"Didn't you?" Powers, who has looked almost bored the entire time, suddenly glares at me. But I've found my confidence, and I won't lose it again.  
  
"I was taught everything I know by my father. Somehow I doubt that, besides bringing him his evening pills, Mr. Wayne took the time to teach you the fundamentals of running a large corporation." I can't believe this guy. Then again, like father like son. I fight the urge to walk across the room and slam his head into the table. Powers regains his cool veneer, clasping his hands casually behind his back.  
  
"Gentlemen, I believe that it is in the best interests of both the company, and yourself, Mr. McGinnis, to surrender your 49% to the board and abolish joint ownership, leaving everything in legal control of Powers Industries." For a moment, I see their nodding heads and collective power and almost feel tempted to agree. But I can't do that  
  
You left this to me for a reason Wayne. And I'm beginning to see what it is.  
  
Don't hesitate, McGinnis. A mere second may be all the time you have. Here we go, Mr. Wayne.  
  
"No." 24 shocked faces and one look of death meet me. But I don't flinch.  
  
"Excuse me?" Powers says in a low voice.  
  
"I was left 49% of this company, and I intend to keep it." Power laughs. At me.  
  
"With all due respect, Mr. McGinnis, you're not even old enough to drink yet."  
  
"I'm 18. A legal adult. I'll be a high school graduate in 2 months. I realize that this is a relatively young age to own a business, but I've learned a lot from Mr. Wayne. I can handle this." The executives are impressed that I've transformed from a spineless teen to a fearless rogue in the space of 30 minutes. Powers laughs again. But there is something beneath it, something I can recognize very well: fear.  
  
"Gentlemen, this is absurd! He's a teenager! What can he possibly know about running an international corporation? Do you really want to put the future of this company in the hands of this.boy?" They all look hesitantly at Powers, and then at me.  
  
"Mr. Wayne thought so. And have any of you ever known him to be wrong?" They are silent. Powers' thin smile barely masks his fury. He's cornered.  
  
"Very well, Mr. McGinnis. You are entitled to your 49%, by law, but let me warn you. If that 49% ownership in any way threatens the well-being or financial status of this company, we will foreclose on you." I nod. Powers is the first to leave the meeting, muttering a quick farewell. The executives file out, each glancing me over in turn. And I'm left alone in the meeting room; the long table suddenly mine to command.  
  
How the hell did Wayne do it? How was he able to hold this pack of wolves at bay, save the city as Batman every night, deal with endless villains, plots, and threats against his life, watch over the many sidekicks and apprentices he had, and still make sure that no one knew who he really was?  
  
I can't even get to school on time.  
  
But Wayne's trusted me with this. And it's pretty rare that he trusts anyone. I won't let him down.  
  
*****************************************************************  
  
It seems like it always rains on funerals. Like the weather automatically arranges itself to fit the mood of the day.  
  
But it's no ordinary day. Today Bruce Wayne gets buried.  
  
I was forced to be host of his wake, a wake that was pointless and almost disrespectful. Everyone milled around, sipping coffee, completely ignoring the fact that Wayne's lifeless body lay behind them. Like everyone wanted to forget it was there.  
  
I can't criticize though. I wanted to forget I was there.  
  
And now we all stand around the 6 foot deep hole in the ground, listening to the priest's solemn benediction and only a few of us wishing we could be in the hole ourselves.  
  
Namely me.  
  
Powers stands close to the casket, trying as hard as he can to seem like the sympathetic and humble co-owner of Wayne's company, instead of the conniving snake that he is. A couple other members of the board and other people that I've never seen before hang around, but other than that it's a pretty small turnout. But that's probably the way he wanted it. Wayne never liked to dwell on things. Once they were over, they were over.  
  
He'd expect no less for the end of his life, even though he never wanted to admit that it would come.  
  
Commissioner Gordon stands off to the side, two middle aged and graying men standing by her. I'd guess that it's the old Robins- Dick Grayson and Tim Drake. Not one of them acknowledges me, and I don't attempt to bother them about the past. All of them are silent and morose, and I doubt they could think of words to say even if they had the will to say them. They're got a much bigger stake in this than I do, and for a second I almost feel like I don't have the right to feel as horrible as I do, and I don't have the right to wish that he would suddenly fight his way out of his coffin and tell me to suit up.  
  
But they all left Batman. They moved on with their lives, and they probably buried him in their minds a long time ago.  
  
I watch as Bruce Wayne, Batman the First (and to himself the only) is lowered into the ground. The few mourners and corporate guests of convenience casually toss handfuls of dirt on top of his casket.  
  
I, Batman the Second, turn around and begin to walk away. The wind blows strong around me, almost taunting me to go against it. It's just Wayne's final warning that I'll come up against opposition at every turn. And I'll have to fight it alone.  
  
I let a couple of tears fall, feeling like I've just buried half of my life in the casket with him.  
  
*********************************************************  
  
Thanks everyone for your reviews and feedback! This is continued in Reckoning Pt. 2 


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